Family Trials
by PsycoFan
Summary: In which Mycroft dies, putting his daughter in the care of Sherlock Holmes, leaving John to make the three of them a family. NO Johnlock romance. A simple story of the oddest family to grace Baker Street.
1. Mycroft's Death

**Disclaimer**: I am not Steven Moffat, the BBC, Arthur Conan Doyle, or anyone else who has any kind of rights to Sherlock. I am simply a fan with a story.

**Note**: This story is AU in the sense that I will make no reference to the Reichenbach Fall. And Mycroft has a daughter. Also I'm Canadian, not British, so I apologise if it's missing that British feeling or vocabulary.

**Chapter One: Mycroft's Death**

There was a knock at the door.

"Someone's dead." Sherlock Holmes announced, putting down the paper he had been scanning. Doctor John Watson looked up from the telly.

"Oh god. Well, open the door then." John had learned enough after all these years to know better than to question how Sherlock had deduced that. Probably from how the sound resonated off the walls or something.

"Must I?" Sherlock sighed, "You know you're better at dealing with sad people than I am. They're so whiny."

Rolling his eyes, John stood up and walked towards the door. "You're right, I'll handle it." Opening the door cautiously, he was unsurprised to see Inspector Lestrade standing there. "So what's the deal today?" John asked. "Faked suicide? Impossible murder? Mysterious – "

"No." Lestrade cut him off. "Mycroft's dead".

In a moment, Sherlock was at the door. To the casual observer, he seemed unperturbed by the news of his brother's passing. But John was not a casual observer, and he knew Sherlock well. Already Sherlock's mind was racing, concocting possible theories for Mycroft's death. He was analysing motive, location, opportunity… but beneath that calculation was sorrow. Sherlock and Mycroft had been neither close, nor emotional, but this news still affected him. It was a nice reminder that Sherlock was human.

"How… how did it happen?" John asked, as Sherlock was still not talking.

Before Lestrade could open his mouth, Sherlock interrupted. "Assassination", he said, "I knew Mycroft should have left that German diplomat alone… but there's more. Some kind of complication".

Lestrade took a deep breath. "It's his daughter". John was taken aback by this announcement, unaware that Mycroft even had a daughter. Sherlock simply nodded for Lestrade to continue.

"Well, you see… he's left her in your care, Sherlock."

Even Sherlock was surprised by this. There were many things that John would trust Sherlock with, but a child was not one of them.

"I see. Did he say why?" Sherlock had already moved on from surprised and was deducing why Mycroft would make such a questionable decision.

"His will stated that he wanted Ryleigh, the child, to stay within the family. I think he figured you and John would raise her, seeing as he's been so impossible to scare off", Lestrade smiled.

"I see. Of course." Sherlock reacted as if this was the most normal thing in the world, but John was enraged.

"So he just assumed Sherlock and I – who are still **not** romantically involved – would be okay with raising a child? Knowing the kind of life we live? Without consulting either of us?" John's face was flushed. An unusually mundane morning had, of course, gone awry.

Sherlock looked at John. "He had no other choice. Mycroft didn't make many friends, certainly none who would be trustworthy enough to leave a child with. And putting her up for adoption would only leave her open to attack from one of his many enemies. We were the only option."

John sighed. He was right. Of course he was right, Sherlock was nearly always right. It was just a shock, that's all.

"Yes, well, she's in the car right now. Shall we go and meet her?" Lestrade seemed unsure how to proceed. Even for dealing with Sherlock Holmes, this was an unusual circumstance.

Nodding their assent, Sherlock and John followed Lestrade to his car, where they found a little girl of about two years old. She had curly, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. John could see that she had the Holmes gene, just as calculating and analytical as her father and uncle. Sitting calmly in her booster seat, her face brightened as she saw the three of them walking towards her. In this she was so unlike her family, willing to show her emotion and trust the strangers approaching her. This was going to be an interesting child indeed.

Lestrade opened the door and helped Ryleigh out of the car. "Ryleigh, meet your new parents".


	2. Ryleigh

**Disclaimer**: I am not Steven Moffat, the BBC, Arthur Conan Doyle, or anyone else who has any kind of rights to Sherlock. I am simply a fan with a story.

**Note:** I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write this chapter, I wanted to re-watch the series in order to get characterization right and story ideas plus I had finals. But now I'm done and updates should come much quicker. Just curious, is it possible to get myself one of those Beta people to edit my story?

**Chapter Two: Ryleigh**

Sherlock Holmes held out his hand.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Ryleigh. I'm sure you'll like it here once we knock a bit of your father out of you."

John Watson rolled his eyes and Gregory Lestrade laughed. "Sherlock, she's two." John said, "she probably doesn't understand a word you're saying, and she certainly won't know to shake your hand.

Sherlock only and pointed his eyes down to Ryleigh, who had taken a step towards him and was reaching out her hand. "My brother was nothing if not a gentleman. Surely he would have taught her the proper way to greet someone."

As he finished speaking, Sherlock felt a tug coming from his outstretched hand. Not the up and down motion of a handshake, but a pull. One point for Doctor John Watson, then.

"Dada?" Ryleigh asked quizzically.

Sherlock was a little flustered. "Um, well, yes." Kneeling down next to her, he pointed towards John. "And that's your daddy too. We're going to take care of you".

While Sherlock was talking to Ryleigh, John realized that there was still a piece of the puzzle missing. What had happened to her mother? John leaned over to ask Lestrade where she was, but of course it was Sherlock who answered.

"One night stand. Mycroft was a little messy, don't know why, but she got pregnant. Mycroft of course felt responsible, and seeing that the mother was unable to adequately care for their daughter he took full custody of her. Ryleigh will have never known her mother, she's a girl in a world of men".

John was confused. "Wouldn't Mycroft have hired a nanny for her?"

"Too risky", Sherlock shook his head, "Loose lips sink ships, and in this case such a scandal would have brought Mycroft's whole career crashing down around him. Now, shall we go inside?" With that, Sherlock grabbed Ryleigh's hand and led her through the doors of 221B Baker Street.

Lestrade put an encouraging hand on John's shoulder, and then turned to leave. He was very sympathetic to John's situation; living with Sherlock Holmes was already like living with a child. John just shook his head. Of all the crazy things that had come from living with Sherlock Holmes, this took the cake. It was going to take a lot more work to convince girls that his relationship with Sherlock was purely platonic now.

In the middle of John's thinking, he realized that Sherlock was alone with the girl, and rushed in to save her from whatever he might be putting her through. Upon entering the sitting room, he was Ryleigh innocently being introduced to Mrs. Hudson.

"Hello dearie", she cooed, "don't you just have the most beautiful eyes".

John started. It seemed to him as if the girl had rolled her eyes at Mrs. H's patronising. But that couldn't be, could it? She was only a child, but then again she was a Holmes child. Then he realized that Sherlock was positively beaming.

"She's brilliant John. Oh yes, she's a smart one. And we've got her early enough, she won't have all my brother's corruption and manners that made him so prim and proper and _boring_. Mrs. Hudson," he now turned to the landlady, "You know I would never ask this of you normally, but do you think you could make us some lunch? For Ryleigh of course". Sherlock smiled.

Mrs. Hudson laughed, "You never ask normally because you just expect me to make it. But for this little one, I'll do anything".

Smiling, Mrs. Hudson walked out of the room, leaving Sherlock, John, and Ryleigh alone together. Sherlock sat on the couch, templing his fingers under his chin and staring at Ryleigh intently. John sighed, knowing it would be no use asking Sherlock to buy stuff for child-proofing the house, or getting toys and clothes for the child. He'd have to call into the surgery and cancel all of his appointments for the day. As he grabbed his coat and keys, and headed for the door, Sherlock suddenly looked up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"The store, Sherlock. This flat isn't even remotely ready to have a two year old wandering around in it."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, yes of course. We'll need milk while you're out too, by the way".

Waving goodbye, he dismissed John and focused his entire attention back on Ryleigh. A bomb could have gone off (not an impossibility, given his line of work) and Sherlock wouldn't have noticed, but he needed to know everything about this girl and wanted to see how much of Mycroft he'd have to train out of her. John rolled his eyes and left the flat.

So far, Sherlock could see that she was observant. Ryleigh didn't just glance about the room vacantly but rather took it in bit-by-bit, remembering and noticing as much as her infantile mind could allow. She had called him 'dada', so speech was not yet developed but she did understand what was being said around her. Ryleigh's reaction to Mrs. Hudson's comment about her eyes (John hadn't imagined it) revealed to Sherlock that her brain craved stimulus and new information. Lestrade had probably said the same thing upon picking her up, as they were quite striking eyes and he was prone to such ordinary observations. Ryleigh was also active and daring. She was already walking about and exploring the room, looking back at Sherlock every so often. Mycroft probably hadn't let her wander the house freely to protect her from prying eyes and to protect his house from any destruction she might wreak, but she clearly desired to explore nonetheless. This was going to be a fun child indeed.


	3. The First Case

**Disclaimer**: I am not Steven Moffat, the BBC, Arthur Conan Doyle, or anyone else who has any kind of rights to Sherlock. I am simply a fan with a story

**Note:** As the title may tell you, I've included a case for Sherlock in this chapter. My genius is nowhere near that of ACD or Moftiss, but I've done my best to update one of ACD's originals. Also, the ending of this chapter didn't go at all as planned, but there it is. Finally, thanks to all the lovelies out there who reviewed, please do keep it up!

**Chapter Three: The First Case (A Case of Identity)**

Life had returned to normal on 221B Baker Street, at least as normal as it ever was for Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, and John was beginning to get worried. Sherlock hadn't had a case since before Ryleigh came into their lives, and although she was fitting in quite well John could see that Sherlock was beginning to become bored of the domestic life. Sherlock needed a case, and _fast_. John looked up from his paper to see Sherlock flipping through channels on the telly and Ryleigh playing happily in her playpen.

"Sherlock, what about this case? Somebody's lost a very important beryl coronet." John said, hoping to pique his friend's interest.

"Boring", Sherlock replied, "I looked at that ad earlier, it was the man's daughter's lover. _Sentiment_ again."

Thankfully, at that moment there came the single buzz of a client at the door. Mrs. Hudson ushered up a slightly out-of-breath but well-dressed woman. Sherlock held out his hand and smiled in excitement. Something about this lady clearly intrigued him.

"Please, take a seat. I can see you've come in quite a hurry," Sherlock said in his casual way, "but first tell me, don't you find your short-sightedness makes it difficult to do so much typing?"

The lady sat back in shock. "Well, I just memorized where all the keys were. But how did you know?"

Sherlock smiled, "It is my job to observe, otherwise you would not be here. Now tell me your story, and _don't_ make it boring."

The lady, whose name was Miss Mary Sutherland, proceeded to tell John and Sherlock a fantastic tale of forbidden romance borne out while the lady's repressive step-father was away on business. The story ended with Miss Sutherland's lover disappearing the morning of their wedding, leaving her to wonder about his whereabouts. John turned, expecting Sherlock to be bored by this sentimental saga, but was surprised to see him looking rather intrigued.

"Thank-you, Miss Sutherland. I recommend you put this man entirely out of your head. I'll look into the case for you, but I don't expect to be able to retrieve your beau." Sherlock got up and held the door open for the woman.

"That may be, Mr. Holmes", Miss Sutherland sighed, "but I promised him I'd be true no matter what. He made me swear, and I intend to keep that promise." With that, she stalked out of the room.

"Quite an interesting study, that Mary", Sherlock laughed. "Much more interesting than her little problem, the answer to which is quite obvious."

John looked relieved. "Obvious, is it? Excellent, then perhaps I'll actually be able to go into surgery today and see my patients. Just don't forget about Ryleigh, okay? Unlike you she needs to be fed, and _like_ you, she can't be left unsupervised. I'll be home around six o'clock for dinner".

Sherlock looked at John questioningly. "It isn't obvious to you? Ah yes, your placid little brain. I never can seem to impress upon you the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumbnails, or the great issues that may hang off a bootlace. And of course I'll look after Ryleigh, this is but a trifling case. Now, off you go to your boring job!"

John rolled his eyes and headed out of the flat. Sherlock turned to Ryleigh and began his rant. "So, the evidence. We have a description of the lover and a copy of his emails to Miss Sutherland. He never handwrote a note and never called or texted, which is perhaps more telling in this day and age. Then there's the fact that all of Miss Sutherland's income goes to her step-father to support his expensive lifestyle, and the habit of the step-father and the lover never appearing together, and, oh, I think I have it! Just have to dash out and double-check some things, thank-you Ryleigh, you really have been most helpful." In a moment Sherlock had grabbed his coat and scarf and was out the door, leaving Ryleigh alone and unfed in the flat.

John came home early, having fewer clients that day than he expected, to find Sherlock gone and Ryleigh still sitting in the playpen.

"I'm going to kill him," John muttered, picking up Ryleigh and bringing her to the kitchen.

"Daddy? Hungee." Ryleigh stated, staring up at him with her trusting blue eyes.

"Of course you are. Your other father's probably been gone all day, hasn't he? Ryleigh nodded solemnly. "I swear, that man…"

Before John could finish his thought, Sherlock burst through the door. "Ah, John, you're home. Great, I've solved the case. You won't believe – "

"Sherlock", John warned.

"It was the father, the father all along", Sherlock hurried on, ignoring John's tone. "He disguised himself to get the daughter's affections, then he disappeared, leaving poor Mary Sutherland sworn to him."

"Sherlock", John raised his voice.

"She was simple enough, she'd never let herself love another man, ensuring the step-father continuing claim on his daughter's income. All I had to do was check the IP addresses of the emails of Miss Mary's supposed lover and that of her step-father, and it was obvious." Sherlock concluded, rather flushed from his exposition. He turned to John, expecting another 'fantastic' or 'amazing', but all he got was a glare.

"Sherlock, I finally went back to the surgery. You promised me you'd watch Ryleigh while I was gone, but I came back to find her home alone and not having eaten a single thing all day".

Sherlock's face fell. "She did get breakfast…" he mumbled.

"Yes, because _I_ fed her!" John yelled, "this is Mycroft's daughter, and now she's legally yours, but somehow I get stuck caring for her and I don't know how to be a father any more than you do, so you need to _grow up_ and _help out_!"

Sherlock looked at John, sitting down on the floor. "Mycroft's dead. We were never close… but he was my only brother, and now I'll never see him again, and _she_ just sits there every day reminding me of that fact.

"Jesus, Sherlock," Watson said, sliding next to his best friend, "I'm sorry, you're always so emotionless… I guess I forgot death could affect you too."

Sherlock laughed. "Yes, sentiment. The weakness of the losing side, and yet somehow I've succumbed to it."

Ryleigh struggled out of her chair and walked over to where Sherlock was sitting on the floor, putting her hand to his face. "Sowwy, dada", she lisped innocently.

"It's not your fault, little one", he said, putting his arm around her.

John stood up. "Yes, well, that's been enough excitement for today. How about I make us all a cuppa and see what Mrs. Hudson made us for supper today?"


	4. Bonding

**Disclaimer**: I am not Steven Moffat, the BBC, Arthur Conan Doyle, or anyone else who has any kind of rights to Sherlock. I am simply a fan with a story.

**Note**: Thanks to Furryraree for editing! Sorry it took so long to post the new chapter. As always, please take the time to review. Enjoy!

**Chapter Four: Bonding**

John Watson entered the room where Sherlock Holmes was pacing. Their adopted daughter (although they're not a couple, as John is eager to make clear) Ryleigh sat on the floor, trying to grasp a pant leg or hand as Sherlock rushed by. John cleared his throat.

"What?" Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked at John.

John smiled. "I know what you need. You're going to take the day off and spend some time bonding with Ryleigh!"

Ryleigh giggled at the mention of her name, and even Sherlock uttered a dry laugh.

"You can't be serious, John. It's a child; what am I supposed to do with a child for a whole day?"

John rolled his eyes. "_She's_ a child, Sherlock. And you'll do what normal fathers do. Take her to the park, play silly games – maybe you even could play peek-a-boo!" He thought the last suggestion might be going too far, but it was too fun to resist.

Sherlock grunted in disgust.

"I'm serious, Sherlock. You obviously don't feel comfortable around her; otherwise we wouldn't have had yesterday's meltdown. But she's a part of our, our… I guess we're a family, now. So you have to get used to her. I'll be in the surgery, so do what you want. Just take her with you. Send me a text if you run into an emergency, and _please_ try not to get her killed or something."

Sherlock considered what John had said. He looked from John to Ryleigh to the skull on his mantelpiece. Ah, life had been simpler when it had been just him and the skull. But it had also been more boring and lonely, Sherlock remembered. Now he had John, who did his best to appreciate Sherlock's genius. And if this was important to John, it would be important to Sherlock as well.

"Fine," Sherlock sighed. "You go to your dull job at the surgery, and I'll be a 'real father' and spend the day with Ryleigh. What could go wrong?"

John laughed nervously, knowing that a great deal of things could go wrong, but he nodded good-bye to Sherlock, patted Ryleigh on the head, and left.

Sherlock lay down on the floor, templed his hands under his chin, and observed Ryleigh. "I don't get what's supposed to be so lovable about you. You barely speak, and you don't do anything useful. But John wants me to spend the day with you, so go be interesting."

Ryleigh glared at Sherlock. "Me interesting. Papa say so."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's '_I'm_ special'. Mycroft must have been very attached to you; he never called anyone special." There was a tinge of pain in his voice.

Ryleigh's big blue eyes softened as she looked into Sherlock's face. "Dada?" she asked. "Where papa?"

Picking up Ryleigh (but keeping her at arm's length), Sherlock replied matter-of-factly, "Your papa is dead. That means he can't come back to you. But John and I will take very good care of you." He paused for a while. "Well, John will mostly take care of you, but I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Ryleigh smiled and the two of them sat together in silence for a while. Sherlock's thoughts were lost in Mycroft and John, and the past and the future; and Ryleigh built something with toy bricks. Eventually Sherlock's thoughts cycled back to Ryleigh, and he realized that she might be hungry. Looking in the fridge, he picked out the tastiest thing he could find and called Ryleigh into the kitchen.

"Cake!" Ryleigh squealed, and jumped into her seat. Sherlock smiled, feeling happy because he had made her happy.

"Yes, but don't tell daddy. Then you'll get us both in trouble."

Ryleigh nodded her assent and the pair munched happily on their week-old cake, and soon Ryleigh's face was covered in chocolate. Sherlock's was, of course, immaculate, but he still thoroughly enjoyed the cake. When both had eaten to their heart's content, Sherlock washed Ryleigh's face and suggested that they go for a walk. He even remembered to grab her jacket.

Walking hand-in-hand, they eventually reached a park. Instead of telling her to go play, Sherlock sat Ryleigh down on a bench.

"Today, I will teach you the science of deduction. The less intelligent would say we are people-watching, but in fact we are people-_observing_. Take, for instance, the girl in the pink jacket. Her knee is bleeding but the blood hasn't dried yet, so it's a fresh wound. If her mother were here, she'd already be taking care of it, since mothers are instinctively protective of their young. But since she isn't, we can reason that the girl is here with a babysitter, father, or some other family member. Given the similar facial structure (note the cheekbones) and the identical sandy blond hair of the man in the green shirt, I would say that he's the father. With the state of his clothes and the bags under his eyes, he's probably a stay-at-home dad. Considering how hard the daughter is crying because of a harmless scrape, plus the bright pink of her clothes and the care of her shoes (and the lack of anyone else at the park being from the same gene pool), we can deduce that she is an only child. She could also be from a wealthy family, but looking at her father's clothes and factoring in the widely-held belief that women usually make less than men, and a woman seems to be the sole provider of this family, that is unlikely."

Sherlock went on like this for hours, deducing everything about each family at the park and giving Ryleigh insight into their darkest secrets, until he felt a sudden weight fall on his side. Looking down, Sherlock realized that Ryleigh had fallen asleep. So he picked her up and carried her home, where John was waiting.

When John saw Ryleigh bundled up in Sherlock's arms, he immediately thought of the worst.

"You've killed her, Sherlock!"

Shushing him, Sherlock assured John that he hadn't killed their daughter, but that she had merely fallen asleep from all the fresh air.

"Good. That's good. You… you actually managed to take care of her today then?" John replied.

Sherlock smiled. "Do have some faith in me John. Surely your opinion of me isn't that low."

John laughed and Sherlock joined in, rousing Ryleigh from her nap. "Dada?" she inquired. "Wuv you."

Sherlock turned red and held her out to John. "Love is for the weak," he said, and stormed into his bedroom.

"Don't worry, he'll come around," John reassured Ryleigh. "Just give him some time." Then John sighed. Sherlock still had a long way to go.


End file.
